Getting Me Back

Journal Entry: March 9, 2018

This morning I danced in the shower. I feel like I am getting little pieces of myself back. Each piece of me, that I’ve regained, is a little different now; one piece permanently gone, not to be retrieved until I make it to the other side of the clouds. But, it feels so relieving to get some of me back. For the past couple of weeks I have been struggling to do some of the simplest tasks on my to-do list. Yesterday, shortly after I woke up, without much thought, I found myself doing some of these tasks.

“FINALLY, BROTHERS, WHATEVER IS TRUE, WHATEVER IS NOBLE, WHATEVER IS RIGHT, WHATEVER IS PURE, WHATEVER IS LOVELY, WHATEVER IS ADMIRABLE – IF ANYTHING IS EXCELLENT OR PRAISEWORTHY – THINK ABOUT SUCH THINGS.” PHILLIPPIANS 4:8

Before I knew it I was trying to do three tasks at once. After a few minutes, I finally stopped to tell myself that I needed to focus on one thing at a time. It was in that moment, that I realized what I was doing, and that it just happened. I just started to do, instead of dreadfully staring at my to-do list in an attempt to pick out one small task that I felt I could handle. Let me tell you, I was beyond proud of myself. Like, I had a smile of pride you couldn’t slap off of my face – or so I thought.

One of my tasks was to sort through and file some mail and old coupons. I started to go through a small pile of coupons and came across a Motherhood Maternity coupon. This wasn’t just your usual Motherhood Maternity coupon – it was from Christmas time. This particular coupon was in a postcard style envelope which displayed a silhouette picture of a pregnant woman in front of a Christmas tree and simply said “#bestgiftever”. I lost it. I am getting stronger. I really am. But this broke me all over again. My gift is in Heaven, instead of in my arms. It is still really hard for my heart to reconcile this fact.

Of course, this morning, before getting out bed, I started out with some tears. This is part of what my semblance of a daily routine is, nowadays. Not to mention, its Friday, each Friday marks another week. This day makes five weeks. After getting through some of my tasks, I started my Amazon Christian Music station and it was playing all sorts of uplifting songs as I got into the shower. I unconsciously started dancing in the shower; when I realized I was dancing, I laughed at myself, in part because I am horrible dancer, but mostly because it felt good. I continued to dance with intention, enjoying another piece regained. Then, a less uplifting song came on, while I was still in the shower. Cue tears.

Later this morning, while sitting in the coffee shop and writing this, a little girl, maybe a year old, started walking around, with her mom right on her tail. I waved and smiled at the little girl as she explored the coffee shop. I’ve always enjoyed curious little children, and I found myself able to, once again, enjoy a curious child, instead of running in the opposite direction to hide my sobbing. The sting soon followed though, the one where I think of how I will never be following slowly behind my Marshall, as he curiously, and wobbly, walks around to explore the coffee shop.

I am getting pieces of me back, but they’ve changed. Each piece has some of my Marshall, some of my heartbreak and some of my never ending yearning for my sweet boy. I’ve changed, irrevocably. But, I am beginning to feel more confident that, someday, I will be me again – just a different me. And that is okay. It really isn’t a bad thing; in fact it is probably normal after losing such a big piece of one’s self, one’s dreams and one’s future.

They say eventually it won’t sting as often. I’m still in the days in which the sting is stronger than the relief, but it’s getting better. Right now the good moments are growing more abundant and I hope, and believe, that they’ll soon take over more hours in my day than that of the sting. I want to cross that bridge something bad. But, if I have learned one thing thus far in this season of my life, it is this: I can’t rush grief. I have to give grief its time and no one, not even me, gets to say how much time it will take. It’s worth the time though. It is worth getting my pieces back as they come, naturally. It feels so much better than trying to force it, because forcing it, ultimately doesn’t work.

A friend recently told me, “You have to go through grief – not around it, not under it, not ignore it.” This is the truth, though it is far easier said than done. Facing the grief and letting it lead me wherever it takes me each moment of each day truly is most healing – fighting it just prolongs it. I tried to skip over it. I realized I had tried, but couldn’t skip over it, when I found myself, seemingly, endlessly crying to a counselor that I had unintentionally scheduled an appointment with. I do see brighter days ahead, but I’m trying to ground myself in the reality of the unexpected, and unknown, timing of the waves of this grief, so that I can let them come and pass, as they will.

“AND WE KNOW THAT ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD TO THOSE WHO ARE CALLED ACCORDING TO HIS PURPOSE.” ROMANS 8:28

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